


among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars

by ivyclub



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Inspired by The Great Gatsby, Lawyer Mark Lee, Light Angst, M/M, Model Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Unrequited Love, except no one dies, its not major but its there, kind of, new money rich mark, old money rich lucas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyclub/pseuds/ivyclub
Summary: Born third generation into a family of lawyers, Mark had always seen people whose suits became their daily attire. Even in his own reflection as a 7 year old at his parents lavish parties would he see himself in a bespoke navy number, bow tie tied by his own father, and dark brown Derbies instead of the light up Sketchers he saw on TV.He never understood the necessity for such big gatherings but Mark’s father thought otherwise. At least once every season, Mr. Lee would host some get together for all his other law firm friends and family members, and even some surprise guests who managed to catch word of a party.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars

**Author's Note:**

> my ultimate goal when i started writing was to be able to write good angst. tell me how i did
> 
> inspired by and title from one of my most favorite classic novels, the great gatsby because its the roaring 20s old sport

It’s not as extravagant as Gatsby would like— probably not even close. There isn’t an orchestra, or even a “five-piece affair,” just a pianist, and it’s good enough. Not like Gatsby is going to hop out of his pages and say something about it. 

One of Bach's pieces flits through the air in harmonious chords that Mark could probably name and play if he focused more on the music. The piano is situated right in front of their large wall of windows, the snow falling slowly outside and in time with the harmonies. Fairy lights twinkle along the window frames with all the wires and cords bundled neatly and plugged into a powerstrip they had specifically requested all white for so it wouldn’t stand out against their walls. 

Almost a little too late, Mark regrets not continuing to practice the piano like he used to, wishing he was the person sitting behind the keys instead of out in the crowd. It is what it is, he thinks. 

There are enough people in the house to fill a few buses, the big ones that make loud hissing noises when the doors disengage. Though it’s only about 21:00, it seems all of the guests have arrived for the night and Mark leaves his flute on an empty area of table before slipping into the kitchen. 

Born third generation into a family of lawyers, Mark had always seen people whose suits became their daily attire. Even in his own reflection as a 7 year old at his parents lavish parties would he see himself in a bespoke navy number, bow tie tied by his own father, and dark brown Derbies instead of the light up Sketchers he saw on TV. Somewhere in the attic is a box of his old suits, each fitted perfectly to his growing body, pressed and vacuum sealed as a memory. Mark doesn't get why they keep them like that, yet his parents insist that they're taking up no space anyway. 

He never understood the necessity for such big gatherings but Mark’s father thought otherwise. At least once every season, Mr. Lee would host some get together for all his other law firm friends and family members, and even some surprise guests who managed to catch word of a party. Most of the winter parties ended up being charity events under the name of the firm with press, like the one today. Mark had gotten out of several when he was younger because it was past his bedtime or he had school the next morning. 

But as the years moved on and Mark got accepted into law school, it was becoming more apparent that Mark would fill the empty chair in his mother's office as her go-to lawyer and possible future partner; therefore, it became that much more important to attend these parties to meet future coworkers and better understand the business. Smart enough to get into law school earlier than most, Mark could afford to be home for a week or two prior to the party, but even if he happened to fail out (which he won’t), nepotism isn’t going to turn a blind eye, as much as Mark would hate to admit. 

The kitchen is quiet and for the most part empty as most of the staff are out on the floor. Taeyong, Mark’s ex-nanny, helped prepare everything earlier that day with the other kitchen staff. It wasn’t a dinner, so there was nothing that truly needed to be prepared, just assembled. Mark's mother still pressed some clean bills into Taeyong's hand regardless, promising a less crude paycheck later and feeling guilty that he came as a guest but had ended up helping. 

Taeyong himself stood by the sink, washing and hulling some berries. Mark loved, and still loves, Taeyong. He had watched over him in his most reckless of ages despite only being about 5 years older, enough for Mark to have jokingly called him dad for quite a bit of it. 

Though Taeyong is now happily married to a wonderful man he met while in culinary school named Doyoung (who Mark also loves a lot; he was one of the groomsmen at their wedding), Taeyong still comes to the Lee parties on his own volition to help prepare, and will even stay a while to help around despite not needing to; Mark’s parents will jokingly scold him and tell him to at least act like he’s married. Doyoung even came today once he heard Mark was gonna be here for a few weeks too. 

Even before Mark can make his presence known, Taeyong has already called out, “Is that you Markie?” 

Mark wrinkles his nose at the nickname and lets out a little noise, standing over next to Taeyong and eating the berries as they’re put onto the plate. Taeyong smacks the back of his hand lightly, telling him to go bring them out and put them onto the table. 

“But Tae, I live here not work here,” Mark tells him. 

“You brat. Go.” Mark sticks his tongue out at the older, who only sticks his tongue out back, before grabbing the plate and walking back into the throng of people. 

Perhaps luckily, it isn't super packed tonight like some other nights. Even with it being charity, winter gatherings tend to garner less people due to weather, though there are enough people in Mark's childhood home that he'll have to squeeze between some instead of walking around.

There is a table off to the right side in the ballroom that’s covered with a white tablecloth, though the lighting makes it look rather off white. The brightly colored berries are a stark contrast to all the pastries and other foods not suitable as a meal that already fill the table decorated with greys and blues and whites to match the winter season. All the other tables with chairs have a dark grey tablecloth over them with a vase of lights and white carnations that Mark diligently put together. He sighs at the sight of the people in all their suits and dresses.

Every once in a while, some well known figure will be in attendance and Mark will consistently not know that they are there until having an encounter with them. At the last party, he happened to get shoved into Kai Kim, the overseas ambassador for Gucci. The one before that, he spilled his champagne onto Johnny Suh, an old schoolmate, who he talked to amicably until he realized he had spilled champagne onto Johnny Suh, one of Korea’s most accomplished goalies, and most sought after bachelor.

Today, Mark has yet to make any mistakes in front of someone famous who he didn’t know was coming, and he’s about to count it as a record until he feels a tap on his back. 

“Ah, do you mind holding this for a second?” he hears. Mark doesn’t think he looks like a butler or a maid, but he turns around regardless, only to get an eyeful of brown leather and tan fingers wrapping around the thin stem of a glass. He glances up and is met with a handsome face, hair gelled up and back to show off his strong brows. 

"Of course," Mark says, carefully grasping just below where the other hand lies. The man smiles in appreciation and faces another older man who was in front of him, probably asking for a signature considering the pen and paper in his hands.

Mark doesn't understand why at a gathering of all places someone would ask for an autograph, and realizes it may be because he's run into the famous person that he never knows about beforehand. He recognizes him but can’t place a name, and he studies the profile in front of him, yet nothing pops up until the other man turns to look at him once more.

"Thank you," he hears, low voice echoing in his eardrums. Mark notices a slight accent, a little tonal difference, and it only solidifies more that it truly is Lucas Wong in front of him. 

Lucas Wong, as in the model from Hong Kong who comes from a family of diplomats and philanthropists. His name became big throughout the industry once word got out that he would be walking New York Fashion Week, a foreigner with such prestige that he was flown to their London headquarters by Burberry just for them to ask for his attendance to the show. Mark sat front row for that in 2018, able to see Lucas walking in the flesh, and now he sees him again, and now this time at arms length. 

It takes a few seconds for Mark to tell him, "Not a problem," and give him back his glass with a smile. He curses himself for not being adept enough. Something about Mark’s late reply seems humorous to Lucas though, and he cracks a grin too. 

“It’s a nice party, no? The pianist is good,” Lucas says, taking a sip of his champagne. Mark’s fingers twitch at his sides, itching to get something in his hand as well. He takes the glass at the edge of the table right off of the tray just to hold. 

“It is... not bad.”

"I take it parties are not your thing?"

"Not really, but I am a necessary attendee."

“I’m Lucas Wong,” he introduces, reaching out his free hand. 

With only a little hesitation, Mark gives it a firm shake. “Mark Lee.”

“Ah, you must be the host’s son,” Lucas realizes out loud. “It’s very nice to meet you.” 

Mark hopes the confused expression on his face doesn't show through. “Likewise,” he answers awkwardly. How did Lucas know his father was hosting the party? He cautiously asks just that.

Lucas gives a small grin. “My family, we moved next door a few weeks ago and we just caught word.” Mark nods guiltily, not even aware that new people had occupied the house next door until now. To be fair, he had still been in school in the beginning of December, so if they had come in then Mark really would have lived completely unaware if it wasn’t for Lucas bringing it up. 

“I apologize for being unaware of such. I have been in my studies these past few months.” Lucas waves it off though Mark still feels a little bit of shame. “Perhaps I should catch up on the whereabouts of my neighbors.” 

Lucas holds up his glass, motioning towards Mark. “Well, why don’t I take you out and help you do just that?” he asks smoothly. Mark grins and holds up his own glass.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, clinking the flutes together. Mark almost forgets to not drink from the glass he’s holding. 

January passes as silently as the snow falls outside, fluttering to the ground in masks of white. Mark watches from the window in the hallway, arms resting on the sill and the hairs on it raising from the slightly cold air that seeps through the space where the window and its frame meet. Winter break is nearly over and Mark counts the days until he can return home again. 

Law school is exactly what most people would think of it: hard work, and uneventful. It’s his last year and he’s gotten far too tired to not graduate at this point. He watches a lot of people get heated in their mock trials and wonders if they’re passionate or miffed. The professors tend to write in his reports that he does a good job keeping level-headed through his arguments, despite all the times Mark has nearly gone apeshit trying to defend a ‘client'. His friend and housemate Renjun will laugh in the back of the classroom when Mark starts clenching his fists.

By the time spring comes around once again, Mark has already received a summons back home for spring break as his father prepares yet another party. He brings nothing with him this time around, knowing he’ll be gone in two weeks to finish what he started nearly five years ago. 

As the chauffeur goes up to the gated lot, the wall for a whopping 15 acres of land, Mark immediately and subconsciously sits straighter in his seat, back cracking from the change in position. The ride up the hill to their estate is long enough for Mark to start getting uncomfortable at sitting straight, though no one except the driver being able to see him anyway. The tinted glass leave everything to be imagined. 

The neighborhood, if you could call it that, is exactly what you would expect behind the gate. There were three or four houses situated among the same side of the street, though none of them were close enough to warrant the others as neighbors. They are large for no reason with lots of walls for no reason, most of them having been knocked down by Mark’s dad once he bought the place to open up the rooms. There are a lot of windows and a lot of rooms, and a clawfoot tub in every en suite. Mark knows nothing about his neighbors houses, though he suspects they are all about the same in terms of layout, and just with a different color palette. 

Before they reach the part of the street where Mark’s parents’ estate can just barely be seen, the car passes by the pond that sits in the front of their 15 acres. It’s meticulously maintained by his family’s staff despite them not really getting use out of it, for whatever scenic purpose it was initially set in for. Mark calls out to the chauffeur, asking him to just let him out here, and that he can walk the rest of the way home when he feels like it. The driver hesitantly unlocks the doors, on his way up the hill to where the manor sits as Mark bears the brisk spring air to walk right to the edge of the pond. 

Mark has a few memories here as a child, having a picnic with his mother or walking around the body of water with her on a nice day like today. He thinks of his “neighbors” who still live here, and their kids who he doesn't talk to as much anymore. Every once in a while, he'll think of Jeno who lived next door to him, and how they always played on the weekends. 

The pond reflects the sky nicely from where Mark is standing, the still water acting as a mirror. Mark doesn't know what drew him to come here on his way home, but for how clear the water is, he's glad he did. No birds fly overhead, no bugs are jumping off the surface of the water. There isn’t even any breeze that he can feel. Everything is still, except for the air going in and out of Mark’s lungs like clockwork. 

“Mark?” he hears an unfamiliar voice call. Mark turns his head and sees a tall figure walking towards him. He must have left his glasses in the car or something because he can’t recognize the gait or the face until he’s only a few feet in front of him. “It’s good to see you.”

Mark gives him a smile, turning his whole body to face the other. “It is good to see you too, Lucas.”

“Almost forgot you lived here as well, apologies,” Lucas says, making his way next to Mark and pushing his hands into his pockets. Mark hums in agreement and turns back to face the pond.

He almost couldn’t believe he had forgotten about Lucas, even though he had met him less than three months ago in his own house and been proposed a date, which frankly Mark took with a grain of salt anyway. For the first time since making it here, a breeze passes by the both of them and the surface of the water ripples as its dragged. Mark’s eyes close in a slow blink, opening again to the sight of the still water, once again. 

After a few minutes of staring at the pond, Mark asks, “What brings you out here?” The long bouts of silence are different, but it seems like it’s just what they need for now. 

“Just thinking.” Lucas sighs. “You don’t have to be so cordial around me, you know,” he adds after a while. 

“Well, we are still strangers.” 

“Looks like I’ll have to take you on that date soon to change it.” Mark looks up at Lucas, who is watching the still water. He has a small smile on his face that only grows when he faces Mark as well. Mark has to stop himself from rolling his eyes right in front of him, and instead turns to start walking up the hill back to his house. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Lucas calls out.

“Home. Would you like to come with me?”

When Mark passes law school with spring, his parents coax him into sitting through the graduation ceremony so they can get good pictures. They tend not to be showy people, but they did hire a bodyguard to sit by them, even though it would just be a bunch of parents and grandparents sitting in the crowds during the ceremony, lest they be recognized for any reason. Not paranoia, Mark’s mother had said, just precaution. 

What they did agree to was allowing Mark some time off before he started working at the law office, just enough time to live the tumultuous years of being 20 he had missed out on while speeding through school. 

On the first day of his unofficial official break, Mark sleeps in well past noon, waking up to the maids tutting around outside his room. 

His bedroom has a sitting area with a window looking into the hallway— introspective, his mother had called it— through which he saw one of the maids pacing up and down the hall dusting. He feels a little guilty when the maid opens his door, most likely presuming him having been out of bed for a while, and saw him lying there, watching her with lazy eyes. She quickly stutters an apology and closes his door, moving onto the next room to clean.

He runs into her as he leaves his bedroom, grabbing her hand to apologize and hoping his sincerity can be perceived through his grogginess. Hushing him, she accepts his apology and moves to clean his room. Mark hopes she gets paid well enough cleaning his house. 

Mark invites Renjun over that morning to lounge in the sunroom cum conservatory to talk. A pot of tea rests on the coffee table between where they sit across from each other, the smell of chrysanthemums dissipating with the steam. 

Renjun also comes from a rather well-to-do family, though they are more of the larger gated community residents that Mark’s extended family will laugh about. A scowl comes onto his face at the memories of them, and he it pushes away. 

“I’m just saying that the school should do a better job at keeping their adults acting like adults. The students aren’t employed by the school,” Renjun exclaims. He’s slouched sideways his seat with his legs hanging off the armrest, teacup sitting precariously between his thighs and stomach, as Mark lays flat on the sofa. Mark feels bad for barely listening, watching the clouds drift slowly across the blue sky. 

Renjun grabs the cup to place it on the table and sits up. “I told Jaemin this same thing, and he was also not paying attention. Are teacher affairs not riveting? The life of adultery and lying?” he asks sarcastically.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“I know,” Renjun says, pushing Mark’s legs into the couch so he can sit on the end. “About what?”

Mark purses his lips. “If I really want to be a lawyer.” He feels a smack against his leg as Renjun hushes him. “What the hell?”

“Don’t say those words in your own home, there are security cams everywhere!” Renjun whisper-shouts. “You literally just passed the bar, your mom and grandparents were lawyers, and you already have a job. Mark, why did you have this revelation now?” 

“Okay, sorry I don’t time my crises,” Mark says, sitting up so he’s face to face with Renjun. “It’s just a thought anyway, it’s not anything big.” 

“Mark, I will support you through everything, but this is not not big. This is your future.” 

"Yeah, well..." he says, sounding rather defeated. 

Renjun presses his lips together and lets out a hard exhale, grabbing one of Mark's hands. "It's okay to have second thoughts, especially regarding a career. But right now you're on a break and you shouldn't rip yourself apart over it until you've tried being a real lawyer for a little. Think, but don’t dwell. How does that sound?" he reasons. 

Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Mark swings his legs over the side of the couch and stands up, grabbing his phone from where it fell out of his pocket. “Why don't we go play a game? Kick my ass out of it.” he asks. 

Renjun stands up slowly, refraining from pressing any further. “Mark, I’d kick your ass anyway,” he teases. 

The sound of the telephone ringing causes Mark to snap open his eyes, the sun warming his legs through his slacks as the air conditioning circles around the office. Instinctively, he looks around for a clock, then, realizing he’s not at his house, glances at his watch for the time. He looks over at the telephone resting on the shelf behind his chair and presses the speaker button. 

“Yes?”

" _Mr. Lee, you have an unscheduled visitor. Would you like me to send them up_?," the message rings out from the answering machine. 

“I’ll come down.” Mark sets down his pen, which he had only been holding to spin around his finger aimlessly before he chose to close his eyes, and stands up from his desk, rebuttoning the top button on his blazer and leaving the room.

Unless his mother set up an appointment or ordered something without letting him know, Mark isn't anticipating needing anything, or talking to anyone. To be honest, he wasn't even supposed to be in the office today anyway, he had just followed his mom in thoughtlessly, not wanting to stay at home. 

The elevator is especially slow, it seems, allowing Mark time to consider what is needed in the lobby. Some of the interns and other lawyers greet him as they step in and out of the elevator. Mark even sees his own father passing by the elevator doors as they open. He stays silent, watching his back disappear beyond the boundaries of the open door. 

After a rather long time, Mark finally makes it to the first floor. He doesn't know how the ceilings can be so high on the first floor alone, and he hopes there's enough floorboards beneath the tiling on the second floor to support them. He knows nothing about architecture. 

He greets the staff in the back as he asks the front receptionist— a nice young lady named Mina— why he was summoned. She gives him a smile and gestures over to the glass wall, where Lucas is sitting in the waiting area, blankly looking at the people who pass on the sidewalks. The windows are slightly tinted to prevent too many UV rays from bouncing in, and the blue of the glass reflects onto Lucas' sharp features. 

“Were you here to see me?” Mark asks once he’s made his way in front of Lucas. 

The other barely startles, just letting out an exhale as he turns his head to look at Mark. His hair is gelled back, just enough to be out of his face and not make it look slicked down. In the light, his eyes shine. 

Lucas gives him a small grin. “Depends on what you’ll say if I say yes.” Mark smiles back.

“I’m glad.”

He gestures in the direction of the elevator and walks over with the other. Upon reaching the floor of his office, Mark asks the unit secretary to direct Lucas to his, as well as steep as pot of green tea. Mark dismisses himself briefly to walk to his mother’s office down the hall. He quietly knocks and opens the door after hearing no objection. 

His mother sits behind her desk filling out paperwork that normally, her husband would fill out, but she does herself. “Do you need something?” she asks without looking up, probably believing that it’s one of her workers at her door.

“I’m going to be meeting with someone for a little bit, I don’t know when I’ll be done,” Mark says. His mother immediately looks up once she recognizes his voice and gives him a smile. 

“Oh that's fine,” she affirms. She glances at the clock quickly before asking, “Would you like me to get you for lunch? Your dad and I are already going to be going out.” 

“Sure.” Mark leaves with a small wave through the glass wall as he heads back to his office. The glare of the sun follows him as he walks up the hall, leaving the back of his neck warm.

He’s only a little surprised to see the unit secretary and Lucas still standing at the opposite end of the hall where the main desk of the floor sits. She looks apologetic, explaining that Lucas didn’t want to go into the room until Mark did as well. The Lucas in question stands by her side, arms held behind his back and watching Mark carefully while he talks to her. When Mark looks up to the other, he raises his eyebrow and walks toward his office, allowing the lady to set down the tea tray and leave and let Lucas in. 

Mark closes the door behind him as Lucas strolls over to the wall of windows above the city. As he watches birds fly below them, Mark quietly hikes himself onto his desk opposite of where the teapot sits, running his palm over the bare wood, not even a nameplate at the end to decorate. 

It wasn't like Mark's office was for any official use yet, as Mark was still on his self-proclaimed break. His mom gave him a room because it was a spare anyway and if Mark ever wanted to help on a case like his father did or even just have a place to run away to, he did. Not that his mom's firm was exactly the best place to hide, but knowing he was in the same building as her when she was at work made it easier. 

“Nice place.” Lucas eventually says. The entire room is just foundation; nothing but a desk with two accompanying chairs, and a couch with an accompanying coffee table. So far, the only decorative thing in the space might just be the people inside it. Mark snorts.

He leans slightly to pull the tray forward from the other side of his desk with the teapot. There is a jar of leaves, two matching cups with the pot, and the net. Mark places the net over the first cup and pours the tea, the sound of the water causing Lucas to turn and watch. After filling the first, Mark grabs the second and places it in front of Lucas, who brings his hand to the desk and taps twice on the wood instinctively. 

Mark nearly overflows the cup, being stuck on the motion, and puts down the pot before really spilling it everywhere. He thinks about if Lucas misses home. 

Absentmindedly, Mark takes a sip of his tea and pretends it isn’t a little too hot for him. “Is there a reason you wanted to see me?” he asks, trying not to use the tip of his tongue.

Lucas finally sits down on the seat across from Mark, asking in return, “Isn’t that what friends do? See each other?”

Friends. What a good word. Mark smiles into his cup, taking another sip and stupidly forgetting it was a little too hot just moments ago. “I guess so.” 

Somehow, silence has never been uncomfortable for them as they sit in it and drink their tea, Mark’s leg swinging rhythmically in the space between Lucas’ own and the desk. Lucas’ phone goes off a few times, and even after he turns his ringer off Mark can hear the vibrations. 

“You seem pretty needed,” Mark chuckles. “Not to be rude, but don’t you have work to get to?”

Lucas seems not to take offense to it at all. “I walk shows for a month twice a year and do press for the remaining months. I can afford a break,” he says, winking at Mark. “What about you, then? Don’t you have to work?” 

“Oh, hardly. I'm taking a break after school before I actually start working here."

"Then, why are you here today?" Lucas asks curiously. It's a valid question, though Mark still glares at him a little. 

"You found me here, so does it really matter?" Mark snips playfully. 

Lucas avoids the question with a grin. “A break from what? Do you want to be a lawyer?” he asks, then adding, “Or don’t you?” 

Mark considers it for a moment, trying to choose his words so it doesn’t come out the wrong way. “My mom always took care of me so I wanted to take care of her too.”

"But is it what you want?" Mark shrugs. 

"And what am I supposed to do if it isn't? Untake my bar exam?" He doesn’t mean to sound so dismissive but it’s the truth. It’s Lucas’ turn to sigh. 

Mark knows he should live for himself, he's heard the speech a million and one times. And yet every time someone asks if he likes being a lawyer, his voice will catch for a split second. He doesn't hate his job either, he just never found out what he truly wanted to do. Since his parents seemed to have shoes to fill, he stepped into them, half-relieved he didn't need to decide himself where he was to go once leaving private school. 

He feels almost guilty at not giving Lucas a proper answer, and remembers that even if Lucas did know, nothing could or would change. 

“I just want to learn,” Mark offers. Though so many things could follow it, it’s met with nothing. It isn’t the best conclusion, but it’s also the only one Mark can give. "We should go before someone thinks something is going on in here," Mark says.

"Like there isn’t?” Almost as if on cue, there's a quiet knock on the door. 

"Markie? Are you in there?" 

"Yes mama,” he calls out. He can feel Lucas' eyes on his back and he tries to shake the sensation as he walks over to the door. His mom is wearing a nice dark grey pantsuit to match Mark’s own— something stupidly cheesy that she always did but Mark never complained about. Her face brightens as she sees Mark, and Mark smiles right back.

“Are you ready for lunch?” she asks, reaching out to stroke Mark’s ear. Mark nods, then turns to face Lucas. “Is that your friend, baby?”

He turns back to look at his mom while waving Lucas over. “This is Lucas, he moved next door to us about a year ago,” Mark says, placing a hand on Lucas’ back when he gets close enough, and gesturing for him to shake his mother’s hand. 

“Well, it’s very nice to finally meet you Lucas!” his mother says, giving a firm shake. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” 

Lucas looks over to Mark, who only raises his eyebrow at him. “I would love to.” 

She claps her hands together and tells Mark she’ll go fetch his dad and they’ll meet in the lobby. Mark nods and leans in to kiss her cheek before stepping back. A pause, and then he turns back into his office to grab his phone from his desk drawer.

“Does she make you call her that?” Lucas is trying not to smile because it isn’t funny, and he really doesn’t want to make Mark uncomfortable about it, but there’s something endearing about hearing a 24 year old strong-willed lawyer still referring to his mother as mama. Mark’s eyebrows knit together.

“No. I just like to.”

Mark’s parents choose a rather mid-scale place, perfect for lunch, though peculiar for the guests seeing a group of four stroll in dressed in bespoke suits. The manager even steps out to greet them by name, and Mark idly considers how many connections they have from being lawyers in this city. 

Normally, Mark would sit next to his mother and across from his father, but this time around Mark sits next to Lucas and across from his mother. Lucas is in a good conversation with his father and Mark watches him talk animatedly from beside him. He spares a glance at his mother, who is watching the both of them in rapt attention as well. 

Half a glass of white wine and four empty plates later, Mark’s parents send Mark back home instead of letting him linger in the office so he can do something with Lucas while he’s in his company. 

They head back to their houses with soft music reverberating in the car while Mark watches Lucas play a phone game. When they make it home, they change out of their suits and into more casual attire and head out again to buy ice cream and sit in the park together. 

A couple weeks pass before Lucas finally takes Mark on the so called date he’d been mentioning for so long.

The process seemed rather taxing, probably due to lack of planning on their part. Mark was in the office for no reason other than to just be there, and Lucas had sent a car to pick him up, which Mark lamented over because his own car sat in the parking lot a few floors below. He had made it as far as one step out of the elevator to check his phone and one of the staff was already leading him towards a parked Benz in the front of the building. 

It was around dinnertime, with the sun still up in the sky, though not for very long. Mark watched out the window the rush of cars as they tried to get home, and he leaned back in his seat to close his eyes for a moment. He imagines going faster than snail’s speed; then, the chauffeur stops the car and tells Mark he’s at his destination. 

Mark opens his eyes slowly, realizing he probably fell asleep, seeing as the clock on the display of the car continued to tick the seconds past 18:44. The partition is opened and a small black card is stuck through the space that Mark palms and steps out of the car with a thank you. 

The revolving door is gaudy to him, but it’s nothing compared to the inside. It seems as if everything is made of glass or gold, the reflections of the sun blinding in just the first floor of the building. Mark wonders if Lucas enjoys this kind of thing, then remembers he’s probably unfazed by flashing lights unlike Mark. Really, it would probably be prettier at night, Mark thinks, or anytime where the sun’s light won’t reflect directly into his eyes. 

He almost forgets about the card he’s palming, and shows it to the man behind the front desk, who walks him over to the elevator and presses the top button, before bowing and wishing him a nice meal. Mark tips his head in response as the doors close, the same glinting gold as all the decorations. 

Once the bell dings for the top floor, the doors open to a significantly less loud place than when Mark first walked in. The walls are a matte grey, nearly black, with similar gold decorations around the trim. Mark considers if he’s in the same building as he was before.

The waitstaff approach him from around the two converging walls right in front of him that close off the entrance to the rest of the restaurant. He hands the card over to them and they lead him around the wall, down a hallway. 

As he gets further into the restaurant, Mark is convinced he’s not even on the same street anymore. Slowly, things start to get more rustic, until Mark is out glass doors to the balcony of restaurant, an open sitting area where only one white tablecloth covered table sits, surrounded by blooming flowers and lights.

Lucas is at the table, his head turned away from him to look out past the railings to the horizon where open windows sit, inviting a look into the life inside. He can hear the sounds of cars honking and shouting, if he strains his ears a little, even from this high up. 

“Were you waiting awhile? I’m sorry,” Mark interrupts as Lucas turns and catches his gaze.

“Not at all. Did you enjoy the ride?” Lucas asks, walking over to pull Mark’s chair out for him. 

“Yeah. Almost made my mom put that kidnapping insurance to good use,” he jokes. Lucas laughs and walks back around the table to sit down in front of him. 

Looking at him now up close, Mark can see how nice Lucas looks. He feels a little underdressed in comparison, though he’s in a suit just like the other is. Maybe it’s his lack of jewelry that makes him feel emptier— no earrings, no watch or bracelet, no thin chain around his neck. Mark rubs his fingers over his knuckles, the sensation of having missing something suddenly in the forefront of his mind. 

Lucas is wearing nearly the same thing but it feels so different compared to Mark. He leans into his chair, long limbs displayed gracefully while he watches Mark’s mouth as he speaks. The plants surrounding them are flowering more fervently, and the white petals of jasmine flowers flutter with the warm air, filling the vicinity with the scent that coats their tongues. 

“S’nice place,” Mark says, eyes flicking around. “Have you eaten here before?” One of the waitstaff comes by to put a small basket of bread in the center of the table. If only to occupy his seemingly empty hands, Mark pulls a piece and starts picking at it. 

“A few times. Getting here is a lot, but it isn’t as showy as you’d think. Unless you don’t like it? We can go somewhere else if you want-” Lucas rambles. Mark shakes his head lightly and gives Lucas a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, any place with you is a good place to be.” 

It was definitely not something Mark would normally say, but it felt right in the moment. Lucas gives him a bright smile reaching his eyes. 

They didn’t talk about the neighborhood, like the original prompt for this outing had been suggested for so long ago. Instead, they talk in hushed tones about how the world seemed outside of their bubble high up on the top balcony of a gold building, Mark watching as the sun sets just beyond the skyscrapers right beside them. The warm light bathes Lucas beautifully. 

Eventually, the lights strung around them flick on, and Mark notices a large white flower that he didn’t see before behind Lucas. It’s in the shadows, though Mark can see the petals slowly roll back from where they meet. 

“It’s a night-blooming cereus,” Lucas says. “They get really big and smell nice, but they only bloom once a year, and are wilted by dawn.” 

“Since when were you a flower expert?”

“We just have these back home. It’s great in a soup.” Mark can see Lucas’ eyes soften thinking about home. 

“Well, I would love to try it.” 

“Then perhaps this may be the best time to ask...” Lucas starts, sipping his wine and letting it sit in his mouth for a while. “Would you like to come to Hong Kong with me?”

Mark raises his eyebrows, considering. “When?”

“Next week, just for a few days. I have some stuff— some things to do on the first day but I’ll be free after.” 

Mark isn’t busy, and he hasn’t been to Hong Kong in a while. Lucas is comfortable enough with him to invite him on this trip as well, so what is there to lose? He mulls over it and tells Lucas he’ll answer by the end of the night. 

They fight over the bill just as their parents would in company, Mark placing his card into the waiter wallet before Lucas can. Lucas, ever the gentleman, plucks it out and slides his own in, holding Mark’s card just out of reach from him until the waiter comes by to pick up the holder. Mark takes back his card with a scowl and gets up out of his seat, barely avoiding Lucas’ grab at his blazer and rushing over to the waiter to physically hand him his card, who takes it with a confused look on his face. 

Triumphantly, Mark sits back down in his seat, only for Lucas to hand him back his card— his real card that Lucas swapped for the similarly shaped reservation card on their table, Mark realizes.

The sun is more than all the way gone by the time they leave the building, and Mark imagines the stars he wants to see beyond all the pollution in the dense city. They sit facing each other, leaned against the doors in the car, during the whole ride back to their lot, talking about anything, and sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence. 

Mark’s house is further back into the land than Lucas’ is, and the driver pulls around the loop in the front of it where clean white concrete starts the staircase to the front door they barely ever use. Lucas gets out of the car to open Mark’s door for him, to which the driver pulls a confused face that’s quickly replaced with a more neutral one. 

“I enjoyed dinner today Lucas, I hope we can do it again sometime,” Mark says. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week?”

“We’re going to Hong Kong, aren’t we?” Lucas smiles, showing all of his perfect dentition. 

“Yeah.” Mark nods and turns to begin the trek up the white staircase, heels clicking evenly on the steps and his smile getting wider with each one. 

When he makes it to the top and inside the house, he greets the maid waiting in the mudroom and lets her take his jacket. Mark glances out the sidelights, seeing Lucas still there at the bottom of the stairs talking excitedly to the driver, before getting into the passenger seat and heading off towards his home. 

Mark calls out to the maid before she leaves the mudroom, asking about what kinds of flowers can grow in their conservatory. 

As expected, Hong Kong is humid and it’s almost enough to immediately stuff Mark’s sinuses. It’s 11am again, and one of Lucas’ staff greets them and takes their sparse luggage to load into the car. When he gets back into the driver's seat, he tells Mark and Lucas in English that it’ll take about one hour if they’re lucky to get to the home, depending on how traffic is. Lucas laughs and replies something in Cantonese, to which the driver suppresses his laugh and closes the partition.

“‘An hour if we’re lucky?’” Mark asks, watching the scalloped awning disappear. He sinks a little into his seat.

“Well, home is already 45 minutes away, and traffic is pretty bad most of the time.” 

“Do you live on the other side of the archipelago or something?”

“No, we live on the Peak,” Lucas says, sinking as best as he can into his seat as well.

“The Peak?”

Lucas only smiles. "You'll see." 

The Peak, as in Victoria’s Peak or the highest point in Hong Kong, Mark soon finds out. Apparently, it’s fast if they took the MTR out of the airport, but Lucas didn’t want to subject him to that right out of the gate. He fell asleep through most of the car ride, the windows doing a fair job at keeping the sun from glaring right into his eyes and the doors being soundproofed enough for Mark to rest through the angry honks and shouts just outside. 

Right as the car started its journey up the peak, Mark wakes up, seeing the incline of trees. He looks over to Lucas, who is already awake and staring out his own window with glittering eyes. By the time they make it to the top, Mark is also looking out his window and the view of the harbour that comes in and out of his line of vision. 

The streets get tighter with more sharp turns as they make their way up and down. Eventually, the harrowing car rides comes to an end as the driver pulls into a driveway. When Mark steps out of the car, he looks up at the house: a clean off-white concrete building with black trim, and big windows framing much of the east side. Considering what he knows about the housing market in Hong Kong, Mark doesn’t take for granted the seconds he’ll get to spend here. 

Lucas steps in through the front door, the security system beeping which summons two maids to the front entrance, and Mark watches him give who he presumes is his father a hug. He briefly introduces them to each other, his father greeting Mark in English as a safe shared language. 

“My parents flew in a few days ago to sort out business for today,” Lucas explains once Mark gave his greetings. The maids disappear with their luggage while Lucas shows him around a little. 

They take a walk around the house, much of it decorated in white to open it up more than it already is. A garden sits outside their living room, and supposedly a pool beyond that. The first floor rooms are mostly utilized as office space, except for one room that’s used for storage. White marble stairs lead up to the second floor consisting of the bedrooms and their en suites, and another small waiting area above the living room. One of their two guest rooms at the end of the hall opposite from Lucas and his parents’ is going to be Mark’s for the next few days. 

It’s nearing 14:00 when Lucas tells him he’ll be off to attend business for a little while, but he’ll be back soon. In the meantime, Mark unpacks his duffel bag and takes a nap, uncharacteristically tired for not having done much of anything. 

And when Lucas returns, slightly more deflated than he came, though Mark would credit it to jet lag and the climate, they spent the rest of the time they have among the crowds.

His parents had left after the business was finished, yet still they only returned to the Central District of Hong Kong when the moon was higher in the sky than the sun had been. More than their families were seen as, Lucas and Mark were just two more people on the MTR and the top level of the double-decker buses, two more people on the streets of Kowloon Bay, two more people watching the lights of Lucas’ home turn on from the opposite side of the harbour. 

Mark is squatting by one of the capsule toy dispensers in MegaBox while Lucas digs around in his pockets for loose dollar coins for them to get the Rilakkuma and Korilakkuma figures. They could also have played the ones for the Eeveelutions, but if they had one of them, they would want them all, and there were other kids tugging at the hems of their mothers’ shirts in hopes that they could get the Sylveon. The glasses slide down his face a little from the perpetual light sheen of sweat covering his body and he wrinkles his nose to keep them from falling. 

As Mark clacks the lollipop in his mouth against his teeth, staring through scratched plastic at the picture of the ten centimeter bears, he thinks about how he missed out on this when he was younger. There was a big grey elephant that they passed somewhere; Mark makes a mental note a picture next to him. 

Lucas cheers when he finds enough coins to put in the dispensers, and they both laugh at how lucky they were to get one Rilakkuma for Lucas and one Korilakkuma for Mark. Both bears are balanced carefully on the top of the grey elephant’s head, courtesy of Lucas, and they ask a passerby to take a photo of all five of them. 

On the last day under the warm and sticky sun, Mark is eating a bowl of _ba wong fa_ soup, a kind of silky rehydrated flower when cooked as told by Lucas, in a restaurant for dim sum when his phone dings in his pocket. He checks it quickly, not wanting to be disrespectful but also not wanting to ignore it in case it was urgent. 

“Is it important?” Lucas asks once Mark goes back to his soup.

“No, my parents are just sending a car to get me at the airport. Said I’ve got stuff to do with them when I get home,” Mark says. He tries not to think about what could possibly be so important that he needed a separate car. 

This day is the only day they stay on the island instead of heading to Kowloon, Mark able to put the one dress shirt he packed to good use. He felt more familiar than the last few days as this was the same path of occurrence when he had come with his family here, mostly staying on Hong Kong Island rather than venturing out to the places Lucas showed him. His disparity from the citizens living here was already quite large, but in the state of how he presents himself to people nearly everyday, Mark feels a little less out of place among the stray politicians and equally well-to-do people here than the kind street vendors and other tourists in Sham Shui Po. 

That night, Mark looks out the bedroom window to the bottom of the peak where the harbour sits, where black waters are partially illuminated by rainbow lights from the boats floating in the bay. He leans against the window on the cushioned bench under it and watches the reflections dance when the water ripples. The lights at the tops of the buildings at the edge of the harbour fade between different colors, keeping a haze of white light pollution floating above the city. 

He wonders if there’s anyone down on the ground, walking along the Avenue of Stars and watching the lights that dot the hills beyond the Hong Kong skyline. If there is someone who happens to be looking right at the light of Mark’s bedroom, thinking about the world that exists just beyond it. 

For them, Mark gets up from his seat and flicks off, on, and back off his light, now sitting in the same darkness that the waters of the harbour are in. 

Lucas barely had any luggage with him at all for the returning flight, bringing only his carry on which was a simple black bookbag and telling Mark that there’s no point in taking back the clothes he brought if this was also his house. The logic is so clean Mark can only roll his eyes and brush past him out of the room. 

They have a small breakfast by the harbor before heading off to the airport, and Lucas takes some last minute pictures of Mark standing in front of the clock tower while the chauffeur calls Lucas to tell him they need to leave. Departure wasn’t until about noon, but they headed there early in hopes of beating traffic and because spare time in the airport wasn’t a bad thing. Mark leans over the armrest of his couch to watch Lucas play his phone games in the lounge for the whole two hours before their flight.

The flight back is just as uneventful as the flight there, Mark taking a nap through nearly the entire thing for the second time. He wakes up part way through for the meal, which he gives half of to Lucas and falls back asleep. 

It’s a little cooler when they land by about five degrees that is well welcomed by the both of them after only being able to slightly acclimate to Hong Kong weather for the four days they were there. Security runs by fast, and they are standing outside the airport in no time, breathing in new air. Mark’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he takes it out to find a message from their family chauffeur telling him what gate they’re at. Lucas walks with him towards his ride, milking out the feeling of being on vacation with him. 

“I hope you had a good trip with me,” Lucas says. 

“Actually incredible. Thanks for taking me,” Mark replies, bumping him with his shoulder.

“Anytime.”

“I would love to come again when we have the chance.”

Lucas gives him a tight smile. “Anytime.” He takes in a quick breath and asks, “Can I tell you something?”

Mark looks up from the ground, catching a glimpse of his driver and pretending he didn’t as he turns to Lucas, who does the same. “Of course.”

“I had a really nice time with you, and it was so alleviating to be able to spend time together and not need to worry about… business,” Lucas starts. He glances over to see Mark’s driver making their way towards them. 

“I’m glad,” Mark says, pleased. He tries to actively ignore the driver that power walks towards them, especially since they seem to be making Lucas nervous. 

“Mark, I want to-” Lucas starts. The driver sent from Mark’s parents comes up and taps Mark on the shoulder, hurriedly telling him they need to be on their way while gesturing to the car and grabbing Mark’s bag from him. “Wait, I-”

“Sorry, my parents need me,” Mark winces, glaring at the driver who sheepishly pushes his bag into the trunk of the car faster. He takes a few steps backwards towards the curb. “I’ll talk to you after though?”

“But-”

“Mr. Lee, if you will,” the driver says, opening the back door for Mark to get into. Mark squints a little at him, only a little offended at how rushed he is. 

“Excuse me, do you fucking mind?” Mark snaps at the driver that is practically trying to shove him into the back at this point. He turns his head to glance at Lucas quickly before relenting to the assertive chauffeur and ducking under the doorframe. 

“I like you. Mark," Lucas calls out, right as Mark sits into the back seat, emphasizing, “...really.” 

Time nearly stops for Mark in that moment. It’s something crushing in his chest and he feels his stomach fall like on a rollercoaster. In just a few seconds after his name leaves Lucas’ mouth, Mark thinks he’s speedrun through every emotion before his nerves even try to begin to settle. 

He wants to say something, anything to let Lucas know he’s so flattered, beyond flattered, but all that can come out is a weak sorry.

Before Mark can think of anything else, before he can think to give a proper response beyond just a well deserved apology, the driver shuts the door, and Mark is left watching Lucas’ face through the heavily tinted windows, burned into his memory the whole ride home. 

Mark quietly stands outside the master bedroom door as he bites his thumb trying to decide whether or not to go in. It’s not that late, but he also doesn’t want to bother his mother because a 24 year old should be able to talk to someone without asking for advice, and yet here he is. He feels like he’s six years old again, standing in front of the same door in the middle of the night thinking about the monster in his dreams. 

Pushing open the door to an empty room, Mark calls out, “Mom, can I— huh.” Even his father isn’t sleeping already like he always is before his wife. It’s not unlike them to not be in the room at this hour, but Mark steps inside in case she was looking through the closet or brushing her teeth and maybe couldn’t hear him.

“Mark?” He turns around at the call of his name, seeing his mom look at him from the doorway. Taeyong is standing there too, smiling gently at Mark like he knows something is wrong. “Did you want to talk to me?”

“Uh…” Mark closes his mouth and turns his head to the room again, looking around nervously. He can figure it out by himself. 

But his mom clicks her tongue and tilts her head, and now Mark really does think he’s six and being scolded that morning for not just opening the door and telling his parents he had a nightmare. She walks over and brushes his hair out of his face, and Mark thinks he hasn’t felt like such a child in so long and it feels so dumb that tears well up in his eyes when she hugs him too. 

“Mommy.” She hums and rocks him a little. “Lucas confessed to me.” Taeyong coos at him.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Why are you crying?” his mother asks. 

“I’m not-” Mark pulls out of her arms to reach up and touch his face, and he feels wetness on his cheeks. Why is he crying? “I don’t know.” His voice sounds watery as he speaks, and now he’s just angry at how his body is reacting to this.

He stands there in his mother’s arms as he wills his way to calming down. Taeyong leaves briefly to grab some tissues, pressing them into Mark’s hand and brushing the tears that reach the bottom of his chin. 

It’s so stupid to be crying over something like this. He isn’t even the one that’s heartbroken, so why was he so upset? Somehow, he can’t stop his snuffling and his mom walks them over to her bed, sitting them down on the soft covers. Mark only holds his breath, frustrated that he can’t calm down enough to speak. Though hushed, he hears Taeyong tell his mother that he’s going to heat up some milk for Mark and get him some melatonin so he can sleep, and he quietly leaves the room after stroking Mark’s head once more. 

Mark’s mother, taking notice that he wants to say something, tells him, “You don’t have to talk…” Mark shakes his head. 

“I just don’t think I like him back.” Mark confesses. Blood rushes to his ears once the words leave his mouth and he lets out a deep exhale. He watches his hand crumple the tissue he’s holding, nails biting into his palm. There’s more he wants to say but he can’t seem to find the words for them yet. 

“Is that so bad though? You can’t control that.”

Mark clenches his jaw. “I know,” he says, voice cracking. “I wish I did.”

At 6am, the alarm rang the blood-boiling tone Mark had heard for the years he was attending school. His parents wanted to take him somewhere nice for a little bit, just before he starts his job officially at the law office. Their flight wasn’t until later in the afternoon, but Mark still had yet to pack. He curses his past self for his laziness. 

Packing didn’t take very long, so Mark spends as much of his morning as he can out on his balcony. It never got much use, considering he wasn’t home for a long time and he didn’t like to be holed up in his room for what time he was. The balcony looked over the street his house was on, the pond just a glimmer in the distance. He uses the time outside refamiliarizing himself with his guitar, a beautiful thing that he had left behind for so long. 

Rain starts falling less than an hour after he had sat outside, and he is forced to retreat back into his house. The maids come by early today to tidy up before they leave, so he changes into joggers and a tee, and grabs his packed bag to leave at the bottom of the stairs. 

His parents are already up by the time he makes it down, and they eat breakfast together. Something about it makes Mark weary.

By the time they make it to the airport, the rain had become nothing more than a drizzle, and the sun was out once they had made it past security. First-class airport lounges were always something annoying to Mark— all the people who believed them better to the others on the plane gave Mark a headache, their haughty attitudes seeping through their postures and glares as Mark and his family passed them to a private room. He wishes he had been raised less polite than he was so that he would hold eye contact with them until he left their line of sight. 

Upon sitting on the cushy seats, Mark’s parents get absorbed in work related things, and Mark asks to dismiss himself for a while. His mother looks up from her tablet and gives him a smile, telling him, “Stay safe.” 

This time as he leaves the room, he stares down a man who looked coldly at him earlier, eyebrow raising in a taunt as he passes him. Mark looks out the windows as he walks by them, some people sitting on the couch doing work or just looking out as he is, at the expanse of paved runways beyond the building. As Mark turns his head away, he catches a silhouette of someone who lights up the edges of his memories, and does a double take.

Mark heart clenches hard in his chest when he sees a familiar body leaning against the loveseat, looking out the window at the big airplanes racing down the tarmac, off to the skies. There are no clouds anymore, the sun up so high it's almost blinding. From what Mark can see of just the back of his head, it’s a somber feeling that cloaks him. Mark shoves his hands into his pockets as he gets closer, knees wobbling a little. 

"Lucas?" Mark calls out softly. He didn’t mention having to leave anywhere the last time they talked, that admittedly had been weeks ago at this very airport. Lucas barely even reacts at first, the only signal that he had heard Mark being him turning his head a little seconds after his name was called. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Lucas stands up, his neatly pressed slacks falling into place as he sets down his blazer onto his seat. Even in the airport, about to board an international flight, he’s dressed to the nines. He makes direct eye contact with Mark, not shying away at all.

"My family, we're… heading back to Hong Kong," Lucas says, clearing his throat halfway through. Mark is a little taken back— he's heading home so soon? He’d only moved here less than two years ago, didn’t he? Mark wonders if he had forgotten some of the time in between.

"So soon? I thought you were here for longer, business and all," Mark replies, forcing out a short laugh. 

Lucas doesn’t say anything, eyes looking through Mark. Just standing there won’t make the tension between them any better, but Mark doesn’t have it in him to just walk away. Even if he did, his legs might bring him back here, in front of Lucas. 

Seconds pass of pounding silence and the feeling of Lucas’ eyes. He looks around and takes notice of something glinting on Lucas’ hand, but it’s the latter who finally breaks the stillness in the air.

Turning around to reach into his bag, Lucas pulls out a card, a bright red with lace ribbon in the front, and gold details embossed to the corners. He holds it out for Mark to take, the card turned up so Mark can only see the seam. He can see even better now what was glinting on Lucas’ hand before, and his breath hitches. 

“I'm getting married." 

Mark's heart truly falls in that moment, his head dropping down again to follow the motion as his throat closes. With his gaze down, he can just barely make out the golden curve of the “Y” on the inside of the card where the flaps weren’t pressed down fully— an invitation to the wedding, Mark supposes. He watches the polished band of Lucas’ ring shake just a little.

Married? When did Lucas ever mention being engaged? He didn’t have on a ring before, or at least Mark never recalled him having one. Why was he in Korea if he was going to have to fly back to get married? What business was he attending to here? Why didn’t he tell him?

More than a million questions flit through Mark’s head, so fast he can’t keep up with any of them, can’t find any reaction except a ragged breath. 

“Oh. Congratulations,” Mark says, carefully pulling the card from Lucas’ grasp. He doesn’t open it, even tries pressing the open ends tighter together so he doesn’t need to look at the inside, and clutches it in his right hand. Is it relief Mark feels? He can’t help but think this might really be the end, and that he messed up hard this time around. A subconscious pain etches itself into his head— that he had let someone as wonderful as Lucas go. “If you don’t mind, what were you doing here then?” Mark works out.

“I was hoping I’d find someone who could change my mind.” 

Mark imagines tears welling in his eyes. “Did you?” he asks. The guilt eats at him. Somehow he already knows the answer, and time still feels like it slows when Mark barely makes out his response.

“I’d thought I did,” Lucas murmurs, eyes flitting over Mark’s features. 

“All this money could’ve gotten me everything in the world, but I still couldn’t get you.” Mark can hear the remorse in his voice, can feel his brown eyes watching him carefully. He gathers the courage to bring his hand up to Mark’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“Well,” Mark clears his throat, “Money can’t buy love.”

“It wasn't your love I wanted to buy, it was your time.” Mark can’t help the pinch he feels in his chest. His hand crumples the card a little bit from how hard he tries not to clench his fists, suddenly wanting to just drop the invitation altogether. He wants so badly to scream as he watches Lucas' eyes melt so sweetly when he looks at him. So much more than anything, he wishes that his heart could’ve told him to love Lucas back, to give him everything he wants. But it couldn’t, and he still can’t. 

Mark brings his hand up, pressing his palm against Lucas’ own, their cold rings burning against each other’s skin. “We've run out of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> ba wong fa soup is soup made from dehydrated night-blooming cereus flowers
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ivyclvb)


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